


Tell Me Another One, Uncle Joey

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: FORGIVE ME CHARLIE, Henry and Joey are Actual Pals, Joey isnt as big a shitbag as one would think, Post-Canon, and kinda gay, but most importantly an old man who needs to improvise a story S T A T T, guess whos BACK with an oc i had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT, henry: wow joey way to get rid of the hardest part to tell, hes an uncle, hhhhh titles are h A R D, im sure nobody else has used this one already, joey: sHUT UP HENRY I KNOW WHAT IM DOING, wow such a creative title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Oh no, Drew thought, feeling very very unsure of what to do.Henry laughed at him.“You don’t know what to do.” he mocked him.“Yes I do!” his old pal protested.Stein leaned to stage-whisper in the child’s ear: “No he doesn’t.”- - - - -Of a man finishing a story, getting a visit, and improvising a new adventure.





	Tell Me Another One, Uncle Joey

There was a clumsy clapping followed by a litte laughter, and Joey bowed as far as he could from his armchair, basking in the praise. He even got himself a short excited howl - the kind you hear at a famous musician’s concert, where boys and girls go crazy.

He gazed at his audience with a proud, satisfied smile on his face as he regained his composure.

The wide grey eyes in front of him pointed to his face like a pair of headlights.

 

“Tell me another one, Uncle Joey!” they demanded with their toothy smile.

 

Joey tilted his head in a calculated manner, to make it seem as if he was thinking about it - but a deeper voice interrupted his little show: “Uncle?”

Suprise of all surprises! An old man by the lastname of Stein leaned against the door frame, eyebrows playfully furrowed above lips curled in a grin.

The former animator stared in disbelief for a second before smiling back.

 

“Henry! Old pal, I thought you’d never make it!”

“Eh, you know. The traffic these days is just terrible.”

 

The kid turned to him, mouth shaped like a little perfect ‘o’: “Henry?” they asked, turning back to their uncle, “Is he  _the_  Henry? The one you told me about? In the story?”

“Story?”

“Of course he is, darling.”

 

The child let out an excited little roar, unable to contain their immense joy; they turned and twisted enthustiastically in their wheelchair as much as they could, their arms flailing a bit messily as they tried to direct themselves towards their uncle’s fabled ancient partner, who, unbeknownst to them, had been invited to get a secret look at the wondrous adventure they’d been listening to for the past five days.

Joey treated his old friend with a gentle gaze: “Being silly old me I forgot to ever tell you about my nephew, haven’t I? Oh, but Charlie knows lots of wonderful things about you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“You’re so cool!” the boy exclaimed, finally getting a hang of his mobility device, “You fight demons an’ inky monsters an’ swing your axe like this!”

Henry laughed, amused: “Me, fighting monsters with an axe? What on Earth have you been telling this boy?”

 

“Oh, nothing much. Just the good old days at the Studios… You know, when we drew all night and day, Sammy worshipped Bendy, Norman had a projector on his head and that Connor fellow was a big, mean, angry Boris.”

“With a mechanical hand!”

“Right, his hand! I almost forgot about it. Quite the remarkable work, that hand. Thank you for reminding me, Charlie.”

 

His partner rolled his eyes with a playful sigh, messing with Charlie’s already uncombed pale chestnut hair: “That’s a long story to tell. And you listened to all of it without falling asleep?”

“Yes sir! Until the end!”

“Wow, you’re quite the brave boy! Did you like it?”

“Yes, yes! It was so much fun! That’s ‘cos Uncle Joey knows how tell a story!”

“Oh, come now, dear.” Joey said, turning his head away from his nephew and waving his hand with such painfully fake modesty he couldn’t even get himself to keep a straight face throughout his act, “You flatter me.”

Henry simply made a friendly grimace.

 

“Would you like a cup of coffee before looking at the storyboards, Henry?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“You stay here, dear. We’ll be back in a minute.”

“Ok! But then you tell me a story!”

“Alright, darling. I’ll tell you a new one later.”

 

As he blew over his cup to cool the steaming liquid, Joey heard his pal mutter very quietly: “You really shouldn’t try out your horror stories on someone so young. What if he gets nightmares?”

“He’s eleven and a half, Henry. He can deal with a bit of goosebumps and scares just fine. No need to worry.”

“Hm…”

He looked at how he fidgeted with the handle of his mug.

“What happened to him?”

“Problems with the delivery. Maybe even earlier, who knows. Can’t quite get the hang of those limbs. And of course, my half sister thought it well to give him her fair share of troubles. She was never known to be particularly gentle, after all. But ever since Malcolm, my brother-in-law” there was a quick pause, and Henry almost saw the hint of a fond smile, “Ever since he got full custody of him, he’s been doing so much better.”

 

They both took a long sip of their espresso.

 

A  crinkled index finger directed Henry’s attention to the fridge, more specifically, to a piece of paper stuck to it.

On it was depicted, in the familiar graphite grey of a pencil, a young man with questionable anatomy holding a broom almost taller than him in his hands.

“Did he draw it?”

“Hm-hm.”

“Artistic talent runs in the family, I see. Who’s that?”

“Henry!” the hurt and surprised tone would have been convincing, had he not dramatically gasped and put a hand on his heart: “How heartless can you be to not remember dear old mr McNamara!”

 

Henry chuckled, almost choking on his coffee.

 

“Handyman extraordinaire, give a shout and he’ll be there!” Joey continued, “Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you don’t remember him running down the stairs and smacking his face right beside your desk, scaring you to death!”

“You really put your nephew in your horror story, huh…”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Charlie came up with him himself.”

“And why’s that?”

“To befriend Wally, of course! I hope you remember  _him_ , at least. My Charlie, he loves himself a well meaning but not very bright comedian.”

“Don’t we all.”

“Yes… That reminds me, you  _might_  not like how he ends up.”

 

Henry raised himself from the counter to lay his and Joey’s now empty cups in the sink, and gently though forcefully wheeled the other out of the small kitchen: “What did you do this time?” he sighed.

“I didn’t do anything! It just happened!”

“Joey, you wrote a whole story.”

“I stand by my claim.”

 

Charlie’s big eyes lit up as soon as his uncle’s wrinkled face made its entrance in the livingroom.

Moving his thin arms as best as he could, he somehow managed to push his own wheelchair towards to one coming in, effictively blocking its way.

Stein found himself fighting back a laugh.

The kid really had the excited sparkling pupils of a true Drew.

 

“The story, Uncle Joey!” the child reminded him.

The former head of JD Studios’ slapped lightly his own forehead: “Of course,” he recited, “How could I forget! I did promise you a story, my dear, didn’t I?”

“You did, Uncle!”

“Yes, yes, now I remember. Ah, but I wanted to tell my good friend the one I just finished explaining to you-”

 

“Actually,” Henry interrupted him, “I would  _love_  to hear this second tale of yours first, Joey.”

 

It was a spectacle: mister Joey Drew, looking back between a starry eyed child and his old business partner, mouth agape, completely stunned.

 

“Bu… But you don’t know what happens in th-”

“Oh, it’s fine. You can tell me another time, can’t you? Wouldn’t want to make Charlie listen to it all again. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” the boy cheered, “New story! New story! New story!”

 

His uncle couldn’t do anything but give in, much to Henry’s amusement.

Joey took a seat in his armchair, trying to think fast: making up fascinating, convoluted stories was delightful and not quite that hard for him, but still, so suddenly! He couldn’t just leave his poor nephew hanging.

He grabbed his chin with a calm expression, sweating cold bullets: “Let’s see now, what could I tell you…? Oh, I know! The one time McNamara and Franks chased a mole in the vents straight into Heavenly Toys! Mr. Flynn got the scare of his life that day-”

 

But Charlie tugged his bathrobe, shaking his head fiercely: “I want Bendy!”

“Bendy?”

“Yes! Bendy, and Alice, and the Ink Machine, and all the other things!”

 

Oh no, Drew thought, feeling very very unsure of what to do.

 

Henry laughed at him.

“You don’t know what to do.” he mocked him.

“Yes I do!” his old pal protested.

Stein leaned to stage-whisper in the child’s ear: “No he doesn’t.”

 

The absolutely ragefully offended stare his friend shot at him made it all the more hilarious.

 

“Admit it, Drew. You have no idea what to tell us.”

“Oh, yes I do! In fact!” he announced with a grand movement of his arms, “I have decided to make a bit more…  _special_.”

 

Henry rolled his eyes some more, but Charlie was captivated.

 

“For this story, I shall provide the bone, the fundaments; I will give you all the characters and settings, but!”

“But? But?” Charlie repeated.

“It will be  _you!_ , my dear, who shall decide what choices will be taken during it. What fate will befall our heroes! What foes will they fight! What allies will the bond with! All of that, my darling Charlie and my good old Henry, will be shaped by your decisions.”

 

The look in his nephew’s eyes combined with his toothy grin where everything Joey could have asked for.

He gave Henry a triumphant grin - once again, his improvising skills had saved his skin! - and adjust himself in his chair, like a true illusionist about to stupefy a crowd already hanging from his every word.

 

“Now, then. It is time… for  **Bendy and the Dark Revival.** ”


End file.
